Deceived (Private Justice Book #3): A Novel (14 page)

More than he had.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept his less-than-honorable secret buried all these years, hiding it even from the partners who’d been his best friends since college days.

Truth be told, facing a bullet was easier than losing face or admitting his flaws.

So much for Kate’s sterling assessment of him.

He loosened his tie, suddenly feeling too warm despite the hardworking air conditioner humming in the background. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“There’s always a need to apologize when you cause pain. Even if it’s unintentional.”

Unintentional pain.

The perfect opening . . . if he was brave enough to take it.

But would she understand? Would she recognize that while he’d made mistakes, he’d learned his lesson and changed for the better? That now he truly was a man worthy of trust and confidence—both on and off the job?

And what if she didn’t? What if she decided he wasn’t worth the risk and backed off from the attraction flaring between them?

He looked down at the folder in his hands. Background on a tragedy she’d shared with him, just as she’d shared her darkest secret. And she deserved no less in return. Relationships needed to be based on full disclosure.

Might as well face the inevitable.

Summoning up every ounce of his courage, he gestured toward the table. “If you have a few minutes to spare, I’d like to tell you a story—even though it’s not about my proudest moment.”

Her eyes softened, and the taut line of her shoulders eased a fraction. “I have plenty of minutes to spare. My Friday nights tend to be quiet—and solitary. Would your story go down easier over coffee?”

Not likely. But at least a mug would give him something solid to hang on to.

“It might. Thanks.”

Thirty seconds later she joined him, setting a steaming mug of black java in his place as she slipped back into her seat.

She’d remembered his coffee preference from their first meeting.

For some reason, that helped validate his decision to spill his guts.

He took a cautious sip of the undiluted brew, careful not to burn his tongue. “Do you remember the conversation we had about my Secret Service job, that morning we were watching the daycare center?”

“Yes. You said you liked your work, but that it dominated your life to the exclusion of everything else. You also mentioned an epiphany that led you to reorganize your priorities.”

She’d been paying close attention then too.

“I can see why you’re good at what you do. Those kinds of listening skills must serve you well with your clients.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not wearing my counselor hat tonight.”

Then what hat
are you wearing?

The question hung between them, unasked—and unanswered.

Better that way . . . for now.

“Well, there was a specific incident that caused me to have that epiphany.”

“There usually is.”

He took another sip of coffee. For some reason, the straight-up taste he preferred was bitter on his tongue tonight. “This one involved a woman.”

She remained silent, her placid, receptive expression unchanged, inviting confidences.

“Her name was Lisa. She worked in PR at the Kennedy Center.
Our paths crossed during a security detail I was in charge of for some visiting heads of state who wanted to attend a performance there. We began dating, and eventually I started thinking about marriage. Then, at the age of twenty-eight, she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”

Sympathy flooded her eyes, and she reached out to touch his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked down at her slender fingers resting against his, wishing he deserved her compassion.

But he didn’t.

He lifted the mug, disengaging from her—and missing the connection at once.

After swallowing the bitter coffee, he set it aside. “Before you jump to any wrong conclusions, she made a full recovery. Last I heard by way of a former colleague, she’s been declared cancer-free.”

Kate frowned. “I’m not sure I understand. If you had marriage on the mind, why aren’t the two of you still together?”

“Because we were never together much to begin with—which was the crux of the problem. Being on the vice president’s detail was a 24/7 job, much of it spent out of the country. Trips were often scheduled with very little notice. It was almost impossible to maintain any kind of personal life. I did manage to arrange some time off to be there for her first chemo treatment, but two days later I was called back to deal with an unexpected trip to the Middle East. Lisa wasn’t feeling too rocky, so I didn’t think it was a problem. But the rough stuff began a few hours after I left. To make matters worse, I wasn’t there for the next two treatments, either.”

The grooves on Kate’s brow deepened.

Not a positive sign.

“Is that why you two broke up? Because you weren’t there when she needed you?”

“Partly. But more than that, I think she assumed it was an omen of things to come. Lisa grew up with a workaholic father who had an international travel job, and she didn’t want her children to have an absentee father. Nor did she want an absentee husband who put his job above all else.”

Kate gave him a direct look. “I can understand that.”

His own gaze remained steady. “I can too, in hindsight.”

She gave a tiny nod, as if she approved of his answer. “So she decided it was better not to have a man in her life than to have a man who wasn’t there anyway.”

“That was part of it—but there’s more to the story. During one of my trips, she became ill very suddenly. Her new neighbor intercepted her stumbling to her car and ended up driving her to the ER. They clicked. And despite the fact he was a senior-level international airline pilot, he managed to adjust his schedule to be on hand during the worst parts of her chemo treatments. He was the one who held her while she threw up. Who ran errands for her. Who picked up food to try to entice her to eat when her appetite disappeared. Long story short, they ended up getting married.”

Compassion once more softened her eyes. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

Again, more consideration than he deserved—and time for more true confessions.

He squeezed his mug, welcoming the sting of heat on his fingers. “Yes. I was blindsided by the breakup. But I shouldn’t have been—and I wouldn’t have been if I’d stayed close enough to know what was going on in her life. If you love someone, you should be there for them during the tough stretches, no matter the cost to yourself—or your job. Love’s supposed to bear all things and endure all things. It’s not supposed to fail.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You know your Bible.”

“I’ve renewed my acquaintance with it over the past few
years, after letting my relationship with God lapse for too long.”

She studied him, her next words slow—and careful. “Since your love wasn’t as strong as it should have been based on that guidance in Corinthians, could it be you didn’t love Lisa as much as you thought you did?”

“Maybe.” But it didn’t absolve him from guilt. “She was fun to be with, and the relationship was convenient—for me, at any rate. But at the time, I thought it was true love. So I should have been there for her. Putting my job first, especially during a crisis in her life, was flat-out wrong.”

Her silence told him she agreed, and his stomach coiled as he took another sip of his cooling coffee. Time to wrap this up—and try to deal with the fallout.

“After the breakup, I took a long, hard look at my life . . . and I didn’t like the hotshot I’d become, whose job was always priority number one. As a result, I started going back to church, had a lot of heart-to-hearts with the minister, and decided if I ever got serious about a woman again, our relationship would get top billing. I also decided to make a new start. When the opportunity with Phoenix came up, I realized God was giving me the chance I’d prayed for. I walked away from the Secret Service and never looked back.”

Silence fell in the kitchen as Kate studied him. “Since I didn’t know you in your Secret Service days, I can’t speak to the man you were then. But I stand by what I said earlier about the man you are now.”

She wasn’t holding his past mistakes against him.

Amazing.

He finished off his coffee before he attempted to speak, hoping his words didn’t come out in a croak. “I appreciate that. And I want you to know one other thing. I’ve never told that story to anyone.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes, along with a question. One she didn’t voice.

He answered it anyway, since he’d already broken every rule he’d formulated for this evening and long ago crossed the line from professional to personal.

“You shared your story about your struggles with Valium; I thought it was only fair to reveal the skeletons in my own closet. I think honesty and transparency are important in any relationship, and I’m hoping once this case is resolved, we can get to know each other a lot better on a personal level—if you’re interested.”

She picked up one of the fortune cookies and played with the cellophane wrapper. When she spoke, he had to lean close to hear her soft words. “You know, after John died I wrote off romance. He was a wonderful husband, and I figured I’d had my chance at happiness. That he’d always be the center of my life, even if all I had left were memories. But much as I loved him, memories aren’t enough to chase away the loneliness.” She looked over at him. “That’s a long-winded way of saying I’m interested.”

Warmth filtered into the corner of his soul that had lain cold and dark and dormant for five long years. “Despite what I told you tonight?”

“In some ways, because of it. I’m honored you trusted me enough to share your story, and I’m impressed by the way you learned from your experience and changed for the better. That’s all God asks of us; how could I expect more?”

Once again, his throat contracted. He wanted to tell her how much her words meant to him. Wanted to stand up, fold her into his arms, and press her close to his heart. To hold her—just hold her. That would be sufficient . . . for now.

But even that small display of affection was too much, too soon. No matter the confidences they’d exchanged, until this
case was over, he needed to maintain some professional decorum. Or salvage what was left of it. He owed it to his colleagues to play by the Phoenix rules, as they had.

“Thank you for that.” He picked up the police report. “I’m looking forward to the future, but for now I need to focus on this—and let you know there’s an unwritten rule at our agency about fraternizing with clients.”

“Not allowed?”

“No—though I obviously overstepped tonight. Going forward, I’ll have to keep things as businesslike as possible. But once we solve this case and get the answers you need, I won’t have to worry about that rule anymore.” Leaning forward, he picked up the other fortune cookie and lifted it. “Shall we?”

The condo fell silent as they unwrapped their cookies, broke them in half, and extracted the thin slips of paper.

“I like mine. ‘The project you are working on will be a great success.’” Connor set the paper on the table. “What does yours say?”

A soft flush crept over her cheeks. “Mine’s kind of off-the-wall. Aren’t these things supposed to be gender neutral?”

“Yes. They almost have to be. Why?”

In silence, she handed him her fortune.

Curiosity piqued by her enigmatic expression, he scanned it.

His heart was yours
from the moment you met.

That
was
unusual. And uncanny.

Because even though they were just getting to know each other, he had a feeling it was true.

He folded the piece of paper in half and slipped it into his pocket.

She cocked her head. “Are you keeping that?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Evidence.”

“Of what?”

“Your charm.”

A smile tickled her lips. “Very smooth.”

“Also very true.” He winked, then rose. “Show me out?”

She followed him to the door, but he didn’t linger. The temptation was too great to follow through on the impulse that had rocked him a few minutes ago and take her in his arms.

“I’ll call you with any questions I have once I look this over.” He lifted the police report.

“Okay.” She folded her arms. As if she, too, was fighting the urge to reach out. “Have a good weekend.”

“I’ll try.”
But it would be better if I shared
it with you.

He didn’t speak the words, but her faint flush suggested she’d read his mind—and felt the same way. Did she have any clue how appealing she was with those big green eyes and those soft lips that were made for kiss—

Get out of
here, Sullivan.

Right.

“I’ll be in touch.”

Without waiting for a reply, he plunged into the muggy August night—wishing it was a cold shower instead.

And praying the police report in his hand and the information he dug up on Sanders and the little boy from the mall would provide some answers—pronto—to the puzzle Kate had handed him the day she’d walked into his office . . . and into his life.

D
iane stopped her car in front of Greg’s house, turned off the engine, and squeezed the steering wheel.

This was dumb.

She should have dropped off Todd’s birthday present yesterday, when no one was home, instead of waiting until today. If Greg and Todd were following their usual Saturday morning ritual, they were probably inside eating pancakes right now.

But was it so wrong to want to see Todd’s reaction to the special gift she’d bought three weeks ago, before things between her and Greg had gone south? Maybe get a hug from the little boy who’d stolen her heart—just as his father had?

Besides, she wanted answers about the photograph she’d seen yesterday in Kate Marshall’s office, and Greg was the only one who could provide them.

Unless he didn’t know about the picture.

That would make the whole situation even more unnerving.

As the cool air in the car warmed, Diane picked up the colorfully wrapped box from the passenger seat and slid out. Might as well get this over with.

On the tiny front porch, she took a deep breath, pressed the bell, and waited.

Half a minute later, when Greg opened the door, shock rippled through her. Creases radiated from the corners of his eyes, and shadows hung underneath. The furrows embedded on his brow were new, as were the grooves beside his mouth.

He looked as if he hadn’t slept since she’d last seen him a week ago.

Trying to keep her features neutral, she lifted the box. “I brought Todd a birthday present.”

“Who is it, Dad?” The boy’s voice floated in from the kitchen, followed by the sound of bare feet slapping against wood. A moment later, he poked his head under Greg’s arm and gave her a gap-toothed grin, his face lighting up when he spotted the gift. “Wow! Is that for me?”

His unbridled enthusiasm and bubbly energy were a marked contrast to his father’s taut, weary demeanor. “You’re the birthday boy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s see . . .” She pretended to consider. “Are you eleven or twelve today?”

He giggled. “I’m only seven.”

“No! Are you sure? You look much older.”

He puffed out his chest. “I guess I’m big for my age.”

“I guess you are. And minus a tooth too.”

“Yeah.” He poked his tongue into the empty space. “It was loose, so I pulled it out last night.”

“All by yourself? That was very brave.”

“Well . . . Dad helped a little.” He gave the present another eager perusal. “I love birthdays.”

“Then this will help you get started with yours.” She handed over the package.

He held it against his chest and looked up at Greg. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure.”

As Todd began ripping off the paper, Diane swallowed back her disappointment.

Greg wasn’t going to ask her in.

So how was she going to ask about the photo she’d seen in Kate’s office?

“Whoa! An erector set, like the one you told me you had when you were a kid, Dad. This is awesome!” Todd extricated the carrying case from the shiny paper, his eyes glowing. “Thank you, Diane.”

He launched himself at her, and she bent down, holding on tight as she savored the little boy smell and the brief taste of the maternal role she’d never played.

Maybe would never play.

“I wish you could stay and have cake with us.” Todd’s voice was muffled against her shoulder.

She swallowed past her melancholy. “It’s kind of early for cake, honey.”

He released her and stepped back. “You could stay for pancakes, except we ate those already.”

Straightening up, she gripped her purse. “I had breakfast before I came.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

She shifted her attention to Greg. His tone was no more than cordial, but the longing in his eyes told her he wanted her to stay.

Why would a man who’d always been vocal about how much he enjoyed her company suddenly clam up? Or perhaps she’d been reading him wrong, seeing what she wanted to see. Given her courtship track record with Rich, that was a distinct possibility.

She toyed with the idea of declining—but this was her opportunity to ask about the photo in Kate’s office.

“Sure. I have a few minutes. But I’d prefer something cold.”

“No problem.” Greg moved aside and ushered her in.

“Can I open the box, Dad?” Todd glanced up from where he’d plopped on the throw rug in the living room.

“Yeah. Just keep everything together. Maybe later we’ll build an excavator.”

“Like the one on the construction site you took me to in the spring?”

“Close enough.”

“Cool!”

As Todd refocused on his present, Greg followed Diane into the kitchen. “Would you like a soda or orange juice?”

“Juice would be fine.”

He withdrew a glass from the cabinet and crossed to the refrigerator. “That was a very thoughtful gift. Too expensive, though.”

She gave a dismissive flip of her hand as she claimed the kitchen chair that had become “hers” over the past couple of months. “I don’t have the opportunity to buy birthday gifts for children very often. I enjoyed the giving as much as Todd enjoyed the getting.”

“Well, you have my thanks too. That would have been out of my price range.” He set the glass on the table in front of her but remained by the counter with his mug of coffee. Keeping his distance.

As his last comment registered, she frowned. Was
that
his problem? She’d always known money was tight for him, that his wife’s battle with cancer had drained a lot of his reserves, but he’d never suggested her tonier lifestyle was an impediment to their relationship or that it intimidated him in the least. Greg didn’t seem like the kind of guy who made class distinctions.

Could she have been wrong about that, though? Did he resent her ability to buy his son a gift that was beyond his means?

“Listen . . . I’m sorry if the cost of the gift is a problem.”

His blank look spoke volumes—she hoped. “What do you mean?”

Lifting one shoulder, she sipped her juice. “You know . . . that it’s more than you would have been able to afford.”

“Why would I resent a gesture of kindness that benefited my son?”

So her reading had been correct. The difference in their financial situations wasn’t the issue.

Then what was?

But figuring that out wasn’t her mission today. She needed to focus on the photo of Todd.

The rattle of parts from the erector set was audible as Todd sorted through them in the nearby living room, so unless she whispered, he’d be able to tune in to their conversation. Not the best place for a candid discussion.

Rising, she gestured toward the back door. “Mind if I drink this out there? I’d like to get some fresh air.”

Expression wary, he hesitated, then pushed off from the counter. “Sure. Let me tell Todd we’ll be outside and I’ll join you in a minute.”

He opened the back door for her, closing it again once she exited onto the deck. Already the day was getting muggy, and she moved toward the small patch of deck shaded by a large oak tree.

Sticky weather she could handle for a few minutes.

The sticky situation with Greg . . . not as well. But she had to make an attempt to crack the puzzle that had kept sleep at bay last night.

And if Greg was as clueless as she about why Kate Marshall had a photo of Todd, she’d back off and let him solve the strange mystery.

Why had Diane relocated their conversation outside, where Todd would be unable to hear? Was she going to revisit the
nightmare she’d witnessed the day he’d been sick, ask questions? Or was she going to press him for an explanation about his withdrawal? And if she did, what could he say to convince her he was still interested—just not right now?

Greg jammed his fingers through his hair as he walked toward the living room.

Why did life always have to be so complicated?

“Diane and I will be out on the deck, champ. You need anything?”

“Nope.” Todd didn’t even look up as he rummaged through the parts in the box, and Greg’s heart warmed. It was the perfect gift for a little boy with an active mind who loved to make things—and a thoughtful gesture from Diane. No surprise there. She was a caring, thoughtful woman. One he didn’t want to lose.

But as he studied her through the kitchen window overlooking the deck, her stiff posture told him he could be heading into a showdown . . . and that losing her might be a very real possibility.

Leaving behind the coffee he didn’t want, he opened the door, stepped into the heat—and hoped the move wasn’t symbolic.

Diane had claimed the only sliver of shade, so he stayed in the sun, leaned back against the railing, and started to sweat. “What’s up?”

She took a sip of her orange juice. “I had an odd experience yesterday I wanted to share with you.”

Not what he’d expected.

“Tell me about it.”

“I decided to follow through on the idea of getting a job, so I went to the career counseling center one of my support-group friends recommended. Do you know a woman named Kate Marshall?”

The name was like a punch in the solar plexus.

Diane had run into Kate Marshall?!

His lungs deflated, and he grasped the railing behind him,
struggling to keep his face impassive, to breathe, as he tried to formulate a response.

Play it cool. Stay calm
. This might mean nothing.

“Kate Marshall.” He pretended to try and place the name, all the while willing his lungs to kick back in. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with that name. Why do you ask?” At least his voice wasn’t quaking as much as his insides were.

“Because she has a picture of Todd.”

The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and he jerked upright from the railing. “What?!”

“You don’t know anything about this?”

“No.” Greg’s mind raced. Had the Marshall woman somehow identified him, found out where he lived, been stalking him? But that made no sense. If she’d found him, she wouldn’t skulk around. She’d go to the authorities. Not that a move like that would do her much good. He was a law-abiding citizen, and there was nothing to link him to her—or her son. They’d have no grounds to investigate. But where in the world had she gotten a picture of Todd? “What kind of picture was it?”

Diane shrugged. “One of those studio head-and-shoulder shots with a plain blue background.”

That couldn’t be. Such a thing didn’t exist. He’d taken very few photos of Todd through the years, and they’d never darkened the door of a photo studio.

What was going on?

He planted his fists on his hips. “You’re right. This is bizarre.”

“Since you don’t know anything about it, do you think it’s one of those look-alike things? They say everyone has a double.”

If only it was that simple.

“That seems like a stretch.” He shoved his fingers through his hair again and threw out a question to buy himself a few more moments to think. “Is this woman on the up-and-up?”

“As far as I know. She was very nice, and she’s in charge of
this organization. I doubt they’d hire someone with a shady background for a job like that. Why? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” That was the truth. His mind was still trying to grapple with Diane’s bombshell. He needed some time to process the news, plan his strategy. Not a task he could manage on the fly, nor while he was reeling. “But if that picture is really Todd, I’d sure like to know what’s behind it.”

“I thought you would. That’s one of the reasons I dropped off his gift instead of leaving it outside the door.”

“I appreciate that. Listen . . . can I call you later? I need to chew on this for a while.”

“Yeah. I have to run a few errands this morning, but I’ll be home later. Are you guys going for pizza tonight?”

“I’m letting the birthday boy pick a place for dinner. So far he hasn’t made a decision, but I’ll call you before we go.”

She lifted the glass and drained her orange juice, a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. It wasn’t hard to figure out the cause. She’d hoped he’d ask her to join them.

And maybe he would. Since she already had an in with Kate Marshall, he might need her help.

But that wouldn’t be the only reason he’d ask her. He wasn’t a user. Never had been. He’d ask her because he owed her for this tip-off—and because he enjoyed her company and had missed her for the past week.

“Let me take that.” He walked over to her and claimed the glass. “You made the better choice. It’s too hot for coffee.” Although the heat wasn’t the main reason sweat was trickling down his back.

She searched his eyes, and he tried to infuse them with warmth and intimacy as he held her gaze. Willing her to understand he cared . . . even if he couldn’t explain why he’d pulled back.

Yet in light of this new development, perhaps he should rethink his retreat. It might be safer to stay in closer touch and hope
Todd wouldn’t remember anything else rather than keep her at arm’s length while she was dealing with the Marshall woman.

Another thing to ponder once she left.

Behind him, the door slid open. He turned as Todd stuck his head out.

“The guy who owns the house is on the phone for you, Dad.”